Southern Comfort
by Izzychase
Summary: Rachel and Dean deal with Rachel’s near-death experience by taking a night off, but it’s not even about the escapism- dealing with truth is a lot more complicated. Set in the same time period as "Reflections Road".


Title: Southern Comfort

Author: Izzychase

Disclaimer: I own nothing; please don't file any litigations.

Summary: Rachel and Dean deal with Rachel's near-death experience by taking a night off, but it's not even about the escapism that partying and drinking brings- dealing with truth is a lot more complicated.

*

The night begins when they're at a country-western bar in a deceptively sleepy town in Texas that turns into an absolute party town as soon as it's dark enough. The bar is smoky and dark, country-western-pop is blaring through the speakers, and college students and young people are crowding the dance floor, bumping and grinding to the music, all drunk enough to be bold on the dance floor but not drunk enough to be throwing up outside- yet.

At the bar, a pretty redhead with long hair is finishing her rye and coke, and glaring at an unknown blonde girl who is currently flirting with a handsome brunette guy in faded-just-right jeans, and a black button-up shirt. Rachel rolls her eyes as the blonde college-age girl leans over to get her drink from the bartender, deliberately trying to show off her denim mini-skirt and halter top to Dean. Dean is grinning a bit like an idiot as he's nursing his whiskey and rye; he's had a few already and he's currently slightly oblivious to the death glares his girlfriend is shooting the blonde girl.

"This is a great song- want to dance?" The blonde girl asks, leaning closer to Dean, but before Dean has a chance to reply Rachel's hopped off her bar stool and puts herself between them. She gives the blonde girl the best Rachel Gatina patented 'bitch' face.

"In case you haven't noticed, that's my _boyfriend _you're hitting on," Rachel says in her best 'high school Rachel' voice.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't be leaving him alone at the bar," The girl counters, not quite ready to let go. Dean Winchester, drunk or not, is still quite a catch. "And given the way he was checking me out, maybe he just got tired of you."

Dean has his hands resting lightly on Rachel's waist, and he gives her a soft squeeze, trying to restrain her.

"Oh please, drunk or not, he wouldn't leave with you," Rachel sneers, settling for the comeback instead of starting a fight. She's still tense and wound up from the hunt that they had just finished and between the girls who have been checking out Dean and this one having the nerve to hit on him right in front of her, she's ready to blow off some steam. She drags Dean away from the blonde and towards the dance floor. "Oh, and by the way? Your roots are showing."

She has the last word in that snippy exchange, dragging her boyfriend out to the middle of the dance floor. Dean's still holding his whisky and rye, but he puts his arms around Rachel's waist from behind and the two of them start swaying to the music.

"Babe, I love how fiercely hot you are when you're jealous, but you don't need to worry," He whispers, pressing kisses into her neck from behind, while Rachel's leaning back into him with her hands resting on his arms as they move to the pounding beat. Dean has his lips buried against her neck, her long red hair tickling his cheek as he tightens his grasp around her waist, and he takes the opportunity to glance down to admire her cleavage. She's so unbelievably hot that he's hard with lust, and he finds it hard to concentrate on any rational thought when she's pressing against him just right and her delicious curves mould so perfectly to his muscular hard lines. They haven't danced like this in a while- it's been a stressful past several weeks and they haven't had a night off in a while.

Rachel sighs in his arms- she's trying to put away the memories in her mind of the last hunt. She and Dean and Sam had been tracking what had turned out to be a possessed human, and while Rachel was coming to terms with disposing vampires or banishing ghosts, she had had a difficult time killing this possessed human because she could see flashes of his humanity before the possession had taken complete control of him and she had to kill him in self-defence. She grabs the whiskey and rye out of Dean's hands and downs it in a single gulp, trying to not think about the person's haunted brunette eyes gazing at her and its soulless depths. She shudders involuntarily in Dean's arms and he feels it because he's pressed up so close to her that she can feel his heartbeat and she wraps his arms around her waist even tighter. She lets Dean press his lips against her neck and grind her against him, closing her eyes and trying to focus on the ridiculously loud music with its thumping bass in order to drown out the sorrow and confusion in her heart. She loses herself in the rhythm of the music, the hazy smoke of the bar mixed in with the smell of alcohol and the sweat of way too many people on the dance floor, and the feeling of security she has whenever she's in Dean's arms. _This_, as ridiculously clichéd as it was; _this_ was real.

Behind her, Dean is holding onto Rachel as if he's holding on for dear life- he nearly lost her today on the hunt, and he doesn't want to think about that any more. He had cursed himself that the possessed human had managed to trick him and Sammy and corner Rachel before he could reach her. He was damn proud of her for being able to handle herself, but it had been a close call.

Sammy may be a goody two-shoes, staying back in the motel curled up with a book, but when Rachel suggested that they go out afterwards, he had quickly agreed. He had waited patiently as she showered and fixed her hair, and when she emerged, in that spaghetti strap emerald green tank top with its pretty silver sequins across the low-cut neckline that he knew she wasn't wearing anything under (from previous experience) and those tight sexy jeans with her strappy high heeled sandals, he simply checked her out with a smirk and a grin. He knew that after a difficult hunt, Rachel liked to dress up and feel desirable and attractive again, as if to put away the life of hunting, even just for one night.

When they had gotten to the bar, he simply paid for their drinks and didn't push her to talk, letting her set the pace. Besides, he didn't feel like talking quite just yet- he was okay with just enjoying his girlfriend's company. They had exchanged some kisses and lingering touches in between drinks and they had flirted with each other before the blonde girl had approached them and tried to pick him up. Now they were on the dance floor, as he anticipated, and Rachel seemed determined to not bring up what had happened that day. He has to content himself with bringing her physically as close to him as possible and letting his kisses to her neck and earlobe communicate what he can't vocalize.

*

After two hours, they're getting some fresh air outside when Rachel grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and pulls him closer to her, kissing him as she sinks against the wall of the building. He moans as her tongue enters his mouth, and he's closing his eyes just lost in their kiss. A minute later, when they both break away and he's gasping for breath, Rachel lifts his hands from where they're resting on her waist and moves them higher up.

"Babe, wait." He pauses, his brain struggling for coherent words even as another part of his anatomy grows hard against her hips. He wants her more than anything, but he doesn't want to do this here. He knows that she's hurting and vulnerable but she deserves more than just a frantic coupling in a dark alleyway in a backwater town.

"Why?" Rachel groans with a slight pout and she's fidgeting a bit in his arms. "Don't you want me?"

"You know I do, babe," He whispers, looking deep into her pretty brown eyes and he can't help but drop kisses against her long eyelashes. "Just not here, and not like this."

He used to be Dean Winchester, ready for a coupling with a pretty girl basically anywhere, but she's not just another girl. She's his girlfriend and closest thing he's ever had to a life partner, and this isn't how he treats her.

"Dean, take me back to our room," She whispers in his ear, her voice filled with need and longing. "I just need you and I need to feel you,"

Rachel feels uncharacteristically fragile in his arms when he presses his lips against hers. They kiss for a few more minutes before Dean pulls away and grabs her hand, and they walk back to the Impala, and Dean has a feeling that it's going to involve the bottle of Southern Comfort they had bought this afternoon.

*

For once, he wants to do this right- he wants to hold her in his arms, and while he was never one for long conversations and talking, he was willing to listen as she would confide in him. Instead, in Dean and Rachel fashion, what they've managed to do is do Southern Comfort shots as if they were doing tequila shots back in the motel room they're sharing. Their clothes are all over the floor and all over the room, tossed aside in their passion and lust. Now he's got her trapped beneath him and he's kissing her neck, almost giving her a hickey from all the kisses he's pressed there while she writhes in pleasure. They had spent what felt like hours doing body shots, kissing, touching, caressing, and teasing, and Dean took his time because even though this wasn't quite the romantic way to comfort Rachel, he still wanted her to know how much he loved her.

"Dean," She manages to gasp out. He stops long enough to give her another kiss on the lips, deep and passionate. He takes a deep breath when he pulls away from her, and he's pained to still see the look of vulnerability and sadness in her eyes. He knows she's trying to lose herself with this physicality, and he knows this only too well because it's something they both used to do before they were together.

"Talk to me, Rachel," he whispers. "We haven't talked since the hunt."

"Nothing to talk about," She mumbles, and she's pulling him back in for another kiss, but Dean manages to resist.

"Babe-" It's the only word Dean manages to get out before the tears spring out of Rachel's eyes and spill down her cheeks and she's really crying. Rachel's crying now- crying for the life she had just took in self-defence, crying for the innocence that she would never regain after being on the road for nearly seven months with Dean, crying for the simplicity and beauty of life in Tree Hill that she would never return to, and crying for the fact that Dean had the same innocence taken away from him at such a young age by taking up the chaotic and inconsistent calling of being a hunter.

Dean is very gentle- he puts away the nearly empty bottle of Southern Comfort, draws Rachel in his arms, and gives her the space to let it all out, and tenderly holds her as she really lets her guard down and breaks down in front of him.

"Dean, I killed someone today," Rachel chokes out in between her sobs. "I freaking killed someone."

"You defended yourself," He replies back, brushing the tears off her cheeks.

"I killed a human being, Dean," She sobs, and Dean's heart breaks at the despair he hears in her voice.

"Rachel, you defended yourself against a possessed human who was going to kill you- you had no choice." He repeats, and then he hears his own voice crack. "Babe, if anything happened to you..."

He closes his eyes for a moment as he's finally able to vocalize the feelings he's had this entire day- he's not good at admitting his feelings and his weaknesses, but watching the possessed human they had been hunting threaten Rachel, it brought out the strongest instincts he had and he had been ready to kill it before Rachel beat him to it. He stays in that moment, his forehead resting against hers, his body on top of hers, until she whispers,

"I need you so much, Dean, and I don't ever want to lose you,"

He opens his eyes and looks Rachel directly in her eyes.

"When I nearly lost you today," He confesses in a voice racked with emotion. "I nearly died, myself,"

He's pressing his lips to hers again and he's closing his eyes, letting his own tears stream down his cheeks. He feels her brushing them away, and when he lets out a breath, it's slightly shaky. He realizes that it's not just Rachel who needs to deal with this, but that he needs this cathartic release as well. They're silent for a few minutes, seeking comfort in one another, exchanging kisses and gazing into each others' eyes the entire time. Wrapped up in the sheets naked together, he silently asks for Rachel's permission before she gives a soft nod, and he clasps her hands in his while he slowly enters her, their mingled tears blending with their sweat in the hot summer night.

*

They're tangled up in each others' arms and in the sheets together, the smell of alcohol and sex pervading through the room mixed in with the still heat of a Texan summer. Dean remains inside of Rachel even in between rounds of sex and lovemaking, as if to hold onto her for dear life. Even though she's underneath him and he's heavier than her with all the muscle, she tightens her arms around him and lets his body sink against hers and push her into the mattress, and she's never felt more secure and safe.

At times there's very little words exchanged between them, and the lovers let their kisses and caresses do the talking that neither of them are particularly used to or comfortable with. It's the physical side of their relationship that allows them to express their feelings for one another in a way that allows them to open up to each other without talking, and in moments like these, neither of them feel like trying to explain the conflicted emotions that are warring within them.

They eventually do talk though, and Dean begins to tell Rachel about his first experience in killing a possessed human being when he was seventeen. His husky voice breaks slightly when he tells her about how his world had changed that day and how life stopped being simple. Although Rachel can't see his entire expression in the darkness, she can sense the thoughtful expression on Dean's face. She's lying in his arms, sated and content when he begins the tale, and he tightens his arms around her as he tells her something that he's never told anyone.

In an uncharacteristic moment of vulnerability, she begins to open up about the fear, guilt, and quiet sense of relief that she felt today, and in the still of the night when everything else is quiet around them, the two begin to talk about the experiences that had opened up their previously uncomplicated lives into the shadowed complexity in the one they now lead. That hot and balmy summer Texan night changes both of them; and Dean realizes that he's finally found someone who understood him and what he was going through. As Rachel lies in her boyfriend's arms, she knows that she definitely made the right choice, even if being with him meant living life on the edge and never going back to the complacent comforts of Tree Hill.

It's past 2am in the morning before either of them fall asleep, but when they do, sleep gently washes over them with the drift of the gentlest summer breeze.

*

The harsh daylight wakens Dean from his fitful sleep, and when he sees Rachel's bright shock of red hair as he notices that she hasn't moved from her spot resting her head on his chest, he can't help but smile. He's had quite a bit to drink last night; between him and Rachel they had nearly polished off the entire bottle of Southern Comfort and he still feels slightly hung over- but last night had been so intense in more than one way that it was all worth it. He tightens his grasp around her and brushes soft kisses across the top of her silky hair.

A knocking at the door interrupts him, however, and he quietly slips out of bed and into his boxers without waking Rachel. He takes a quick look outside, and groans inwardly when he sees that Sam is looking all refreshed and ready to hit the road.

"Dude, what do you want? It's 10am in the morning." Dean can't help but groan.

Sam wisely does not comment on his brother being dressed only in boxers, or the sight of clothing strewed all over the room.

"Dean," He sighs instead. "Maybe you and Rachel could try talking about things to sort them out instead of resorting to alcohol and sex."

Dean sighs, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes.

"Look, Sam, " He starts, "Rachel and I don't sit around holding hands and talking about our feelings. We deal with things in our way- and by the way, we do talk, just not in that cheesy Oprah way you seem to think it involves. Rachel and I..."

He takes a quick glance to see her still sleeping contentedly in their bed,

"Rachel and I are just different."

Sam gives a slow nod, before saying softly,

"You know, she and I don't always agree on everything, but I don't want to lose her any more than you do."

Dean's eyes soften at that, and before he can say anything, Sam interrupts.

"I know, dude. No chick flick moments."

Dean simply shoots him a grin.

"So listen, there's this fantastic brunch place near the college that I heard about," Sam says, "The best Eggs Benny in town and awesome breakfast burritos, and pancakes and waffles and everything. Why don't we go there as soon as you and Rachel are ready?"

"Now you're talking," Dean declares. "I'll go knock on your room door as soon as we're ready, okay?"

Dean closes the door and makes his way to where Rachel's now awake, and she simply gives him a sweet smile, and he tries not to focus on how the sheets are only pulled up an inch above her tantalizing nipples and he gives her a fond kiss on the lips.

"How're you feeling, babe?" He asks and she winds her arms around his neck, playing with his hair.

"Like I need some aspirin," She replies, and he gives a chuckle.

"Why don't we go take a shower and we'll go for brunch after we get you an aspirin?" He asks and she nods.

"Dean," She says ever so softly but he's all attentive again.

"Yeah, babe?" He asks quietly.

"I love you so much," Rachel says, and he hears the truth in her voice and sees the sincerity in her beautiful brown eyes.

"I love you too, babe, and I always will," He replies, blushing slightly at how clichéd that feels, but he doesn't care because he knows its true.

On their way out the door, Dean places the empty Southern Comfort bottle down for recycling collection. It may have facilitated last night, but they've managed to move past it all on their own. Sammy's driving up in the Impala, and Dean holds onto Rachel's hand, their fingers intertwined in a simple but effective way of showing each other their love and support. He's ready to put last night and its intensity appropriately behind him now that he's dealt with it and he's ready to start a new day with the woman he loves.

It's not even about using alcohol or any other physical vice to drown out a sorrow or to deal with a complex situation or to escape anymore, he realizes- it's the experiencing of those moments sharply and vividly, holding onto them and accepting them for what they are, dealing with those fragments of chaotic inconsistencies even if it means struggling and questioning what they are, and to share them with the woman he loves and to live bravely and to love each other intensely.

Southern Comfort isn't the end, and it never was; it was just that- a means to unlock all the complicated issues that mark their lives and to bring the two of them to the point where they can meet one another in honest conversation.

END


End file.
